


Failure

by BestApplePie



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Underage, Mentions of Violence, mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestApplePie/pseuds/BestApplePie
Summary: Ajay chose Amita over Sabal. Yet he spared his life. Sabal wishes he hadn't.





	Failure

He watches the prayer flags for a while, fluttering in the endless winds of Kyrat. He wants to pray, he really does, but he still feels… numb.

The Golden Path has been his life. 

He can’t believe it’s over. That Ajay would side with Amita, that they would take the Golden Path away from him. 

Part of him wishes Ajay would have just pulled that trigger.

Ajay.

Sabal closes his eyes. He has been wrong about him. Ajay isn’t like his father at all.

Mohan… Mohan would be disappointed. In Ajay.

In Sabal.

He tries to remember the feeling of Mohan’s comforting touch on his cheek. The man’s big, warm hands on his head, his voice soothing, promising him revenge.

Promising him salvation.

For years, when he closed his eyes and listened to the winds - when he prayed to Kyra, but really, he was praying to Mohan. Mohan was strong when Sabal was not. Mohan would not have stood by like Sabal did - when his father was shot, when his mother and sisters were raped.

The sounds had followed him long after it happened. His father’s body hitting the ground. His mother’s screams as she fought and the gurgles as she choked on her own blood when they slit her throat. His sisters’ wails and screeches.

The panting of the man above him. The sound of skin hitting skin.

The creaking of the rope against wood as his oldest sister’s body convulted. His other sisters’ whispers, wondering if they should just hang themselves too.

The sound of his first shot and blood hitting the ground, and “Well done, boy” and his own retching. 

Mohan’s words - when he talked about Kyrat - about hope - about future - Mohan’s words would make the sounds stop. They could make him dream of schools and temples, make him think of farmlands and how to make sure no child would ever have to go hungry. 

Sabal was a sinner but Mohan could make him feel like a believer. A good man.

Now all that’s left is a failure. Pagan Min or Amita - it does not make a difference. There is nothing Sabal can dream of anymore. 

A few of the men who used to be loyal to him found him some days earlier. He didn’t move - he wasn’t sure if he even had the strength to do so - continuing his prayers - Kyra forgive me, Mohan forgive me, don’t abandon me please - as they quitely talked what to do - just shoot me what does it matter at this point - as they stepped forward, guns drawn.

He opened his eyes but still didn’t move and Rakesh was the first to rush forward and hug him. There used to be times when he didn’t mind Rakesh’s crushing hugs - when he returned them as an equal - but now he wasn’t an equal anymore. He felt small and weak and too damn tired. 

They asked him why he was still here - why he hadn’t left the country. If he needed help.

Sabal didn’t say anything. He had no place to go. He had nothing worth running for. Nothing worth helping, either.

He takes the old, worn jacket off and lets go, watches as the wind carries it away. 

The revolution is dead. 

He closes his eyes. He would have given everything for the revolution. For the Golden Path. For Kyrat. For Mohan. For Ajay.

But they have all left him. He has nothing. 

He is alone.


End file.
